A thousand apologies for being nearly a month late on this post, though I am sure anyone reading this knows me well enough to not be surprised. Momma asked me to write a post to sum of the past 12 months, since she wasn’t there for all of it. So buckle up and hold on tight, kids.
My 18th birthday found me on the horribly gross old couch in my grossly horrible old house I’d rented a surprisingly decent room in, sitting next to the surprisingly older, horribly decent, (and dare I say it?) undisputedly the most handsome man in the ward. And I was pretty darn happy.
I had hair to my waist, a job shaving ice, a Tuesday/ Thursday schedule, a nice guy who let me read to him, and an unprecedented excitement to be doing it all at once, and succeeding, at that. I remember one time I got home from work around midnight, took off my shoes that were permanently covered in rainbow colored flavored syrups, and saw my poor veiny little feet that just wanted me to sit down. I looked in the mirror. My hair was sticky and falling out of its bun, my shirt was half untucked and covered in grime from doing some nasty closing chores, and much to my dismay, one of my earrings was missing. But I thought I had never looked lovelier.
In this past year or so, I attended mission prep classes for 3 semesters, which I’m 62% sure is some kind of record, because people don’t usually go there by choice for one semester. Anyway, I was looking for some kind of confirmation from God that I should go on a mission, or even some kind of sign that I shouldn’t. In this time I also auditioned to be a missionary in the Mesa Pageant and in the Nauvoo Pageant and vignettes. After all, I have been acting since I was 6 years old and can’t seem to shake it from my life, Heavenly Father gives us gifts to benefit others and the Mesa Pageant generates enough baptisms each year to fill a new branch, surely this is why I was given the gifts I have.
I prayed to Heavenly Father if this is what I am supposed to be doing, and even if one of these pageants was to be my mission. I auditioned for each one with stalwart faith in being cast. My prayers were answered by two rejection letters in my mailbox within weeks of each other. Heart. Break.
And while we are on the subject, my insistence to audition for these part time missions, and my reluctance to fly to Virginia to meet his family, eventually tipped off the most handsome man in the ward that I would not be marrying him any time soon. He lives in LA now and is now the most handsome man in someone else’s ward.
In my studying I came to section 9 of the Doctrine & Covenants: “8 But, behold, I say unto you, that you must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right, and if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right. 9 But if it be not right you shall have no such feelings, but you shall have a stupor of thought…”
And I had my answer. Stupors of thought were all I ever had when considering a mission. Actually at this time, stupors of thought were my way of life. I was a stupor star. So I told my mission prep teachers, that I would not be serving a mission, but thanks for making the most prepared missionary in probably the whole world.
Fast forward to July 2015, in the indescribable holy land that is Missouri. Like what more do you want me to say? It’s Zion. I made celestial friendships there and started to glimpse what true charity feels like and under the motivation of friendship and charity, we did mission work. It was born out of pure love for our branch members and I began to see the gospel in the raw. I’d come to Missouri to spend time with my family but I was hardly ever home because I was always out with the missionaries, or the branch and time spent hanging out with friends and time spent at church and branch activities began to blur because it was all the same. Conversation easily and naturally flowed between the best burgers in Kansas City to simple and profound truths about eternity. And that’s how I fell in love with the work.
I was standing at the sink doing dishes (because I am an angel child and a gift to my mother) when my dad said something to the effect of “Coming up on your 19th birthday.” I nodded. I’m not stupid. I know where this is going. “That’s a big one.” No, not really. I nodded again. “Are you going on a mission?” He finally came out and asked it. And I asked it of myself. Are you?
Do I have the faith to pick up and leave my friends, my family, my prospective lovers, my school work, an amazing acting opportunity, my beloved desert home and give it all to people I have never met before? No. I do not. Am I capable of living off of weird food, the same 8 outfits, and diverse living conditions for 18 months? No, I don’t think I am. Am I prepared to leave a situation I love, knowing it will never be the same again, knowing I will never be the same again? Certainly not. Do I love the Gospel? Do I trust in The Lord? Do I believe that all things are possible through Him? Do I have faith that He will make weak things (me) strong?
I nodded.
At the time I just had enough faith to tell my parents I had a desire to serve. And after some time and studying, my faith grew to be just enough to tell my Bishop I had a desire to serve. And though I was unsure it would, the day came where I had enough faith to print out and begin my mission papers. And so it went, line upon line, precept upon precept, here a little and there a little. And when my medical papers were giving me problems and I was 84% sure I had butt cancer, I simply took a deep breath and asked, “Do you have enough faith to go into that doctor’s office one more time?” and that much I did have.
Those neat friends I told you about gave me a priesthood blessing and in time I had my mission call in hand, standing in front of the people I love, I read aloud the country that I know I’ll come to love. And I had sufficient faith to write an acceptance to my call to El Salvador, Santa Ana mission, which has grown into sufficient faith to begin studying Spanish again. And I believe that it will still grow into faith enough to board a plane, and then faith enough to get out of bed and shower the next morning and faith enough to stick it out for one more day when I am at the end of my rope and faith enough for one day after that.
My 19th birthday found me sitting at the table of my lovely new home in Mesa, eating Chinese food, and drinking an Italian soda with a close friend who’s trying desperately to explain basic physics concepts in a way that will stick in my slippery head so I can have a chance at graduating before I head south to teach and preach and work as missionaries do. And I’m downright joyful.
<3 you baby face!
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